


Breakdown and Knockout's Song: Satellite

by EbonyAura



Series: Metal: Cybertron's Rock and Roll [4]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Character Development, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rock and Roll, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 14:30:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyAura/pseuds/EbonyAura
Summary: Time devours all when given the chance. It crumbles iron and snaps steel, because nothing was meant to last forever... But that never meant bonds couldn't dance on the edge of eternity.Imagine just one cycle before the Decepticon Band's second world tour, Breakdown and Knockout realize that life in the fast lane has worn them down.As they hit the brakes and take it slow for the first time in many ano cycles, they reflect on what had brought them together. And with the help of the run-down local bar and an old radio, find what it was that made their bond strong enough to withstand time itself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you leave me home alone with a laptop and my self-destructive thoughts... Well, hopefully it's good.  
> I do NOT own any of the songs that will be quoted or the characters that will be within this story, they are the property of their respective owners!  
> Enjoy!

Never was it said that the early morning cycle and rockstars would ever get along. The Decepticons proved that point rather well.  
  
Breakdown grumbled as he watched the mini-bots packing away his drum set into Streetwise’s storage compartments.  
  
“Watch it with those! They’re fragging expensive!”  
  
He sneered. One of the bots whipped around from sliding the box containing his cymbals on top of the others.  
  
“Go frag yourself drummer! We know what we’re doing!”  
  
The mini-bot shouted back. Breakdown glared at them long and hard for another few nanoseconds before sighing. A small gust of the early cycle’s wind blew rust at his faceplates, and he recycled his optics to keep them clear. Knockout would probably take one look at his rust-blown frame when he stepped back into their apartment and demand he take a decontamination bath. So, he stood steady as the draft blew against him, taking in the feeling of Kaon’s grime on his plating before it would soon be washed away.  
  
“… Remind me again where this tour starts?”  
  
“It starts in Tarn, Megatron. The Decepticons are scheduled for three performances there next week. Once they are complete, you’ll move onto Stanix… _Megatron!”_  
  
The drummer’s audial picked up Prowl’s startlingly loud inquiry before turning to see the lead singer jolt where he stood, optics wide and staring at the agent as if he’d just realized he was there. Then his spiked shoulders drooped, and his optics dimmed.  
  
“Tarn. Yes Tarn… What was after Tarn?”  
  
Prowl seemed to be fighting the urge to slap his servo over his face plates.  
  
“How long is it now that you’ve spent with Optimus Prime, who rises at dawn, and you still haven’t learned to become better acquainted with morning cycles?”  
  
The silver Kaonian shook his helm as he yawned into his fist.  
  
“This cycle would make… Two ano cycles since meeting Orion? I believe two… And I am only a morning bot when I decree it Prowl.”  
  
“—GET YOUR SLAGGIN SERVOS OFF MY GUITAR YOU TWIT!!”  
  
This time, both Megatron and Prowl jumped at the ready as Breakdown glanced behind just in time to stumble out of the way of the mini-bot scrambling past him with a guitar case in servo. Trailing after, the band’s seeker screeched as he stalked towards the petrified bot with a vengeful snarl. The drummer rolled his optics as his lead singer and agent watched the scene unfold.  
  
“… Three performances in Tarn next week, then we move to Stanix. Got it.”  
  
Prowl did a double take as Megatron turned on a heel and walked away from the tour bus, following after him in no small amount of shock.  
  
Exasperated by the situation as well, the drummer turned away from the bus to amble down the small Kaonian street. For now, as the sun peeked over the horizon, it was quiet. Workers headed out of town for the mines had already gone through a couple groons before. Afterwards, traffic did not usually begin to pick up until later in the morning when the markets opened.  
  
The rusty draft blew over him again, and he tipped his helm upwards. In the glow of the streetlight, he sought out the pinpricks of rust that flew through the air, whizzing past the run-down buildings around him. They’d stood against rust storms for so long that their silver siding had turned red and crusty, giving the illusion of a town of crumbling embers after a fire.  
  
Breakdown couldn’t remember a time when the buildings had ever shone silver, but he did remember when they were all full of life. All of his band did. That had been before the economy had collapsed, and Kaon had been a center of commerce for the whole of Cybertron. Back when even the acid wastelands were an enjoyable drive for anyone who passed through. They were one part of Kaon that had never changed.

_30 ano cycles ago_

“Hey Breakdown! After you’re done with that beam, this one needs to be set in place and secured!”  
  
Grunting as he hammered the last bolt into place, Breakdown looked over his shoulder at the Constructicon shouting over machinery as he walked past. Then he glanced at the sun setting on the west horizon and sighed.  
  
 _Looks like I’ll be working another night shift._  
  
He waved his hammer at him.  
  
“Got it!”  
  
He shouted and heaved himself onto his peds from the structural support steel he’d been sitting on. His limb struts ached, and his spinal strut was killing him. He’d forgotten to bring an extra energon cube with him because he’d thought that he’d be home by sundown. His tanks reminded him of that fact rather acutely. But, there was no use in complaining about it. He needed the extra credits. Stretching to realign his cables and reset joints, Breakdown took practiced care in walking along the steel beneath him to reach the next beam.  
  
The new building they were putting together wasn’t all that tall. It barely reached where the rust winds hovered and stood far below that fancy seeker’s nest at the end of the main street stretching above the chemical cloud hovering over Kaon. But, it did give him a good view of the roads beyond. One of the main highways grounders used to travel from one district to another met his optics as he situated himself on the next southern corner by the next beam.  
  
Next to him, another bot pounded a piece of warped metal back into place. They’d applied for this job at the same time and spoke to each other once in a while. He knew him by face, not by designation. Wincing as his joints creaked under the strain, the blue bruiser sat back down on the steel structure and began hammering bolts.  
  
He didn’t notice when the bot next to him stopped his own work and looked up at the layout of Kaon.  
  
“Hey, look at that.”  
  
The bot bumped his shoulder, and he looked up in surprise.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Focusing on his companion, whom pointed out towards the east, he followed his digit to where small acid lakes lay together, separated only by a winding road that took bots through them. The Acid Wastelands.  
  
He didn’t bother with them most of the time. Work took up all of his cycles, and he wasn’t about to start skipping out to drive around acid lakes. Narrowing his sights on the road, Breakdown noticed brilliantly colored grounders speeding between the curves of the lakes, drifting past each other with precision and ease.  
  
“Looks like the racers are at it again… You ever wondered what it might be like to be able to go that fast?”  
  
Watching the alt modes master the road from the distance, he shrugged before going back to the bolts still sticking out in front of him.  
  
“Nah, not really.”  
  
Next to him, the bot’s expression seemed disappointed in the response. But he shrugged with feign disinterest and went back to his own task.  
  
The bot didn’t notice when Breakdown’s optics wandered back to the Wastelands and narrowed in on the alt modes. He watched as a red racer sped past two other beside them and drifted into a turn.  
  
Breakdown knew he would never get to live life in the fast lane like a racer did. But that didn’t stop him from wondering what his life would be like if he did.


	2. Chapter 2

_Present Cycle_  
  
Breakdown’s comm link pinged. He answered it on the first ring, knowing who it was before the comm code could even flash.  
  
“Breakdown, where have you been? I saw you walk out with the drum set half a groon ago!”  
  
His bonded’s raised voice met his audial and he recycled his optics. Had it been that long? He’d only stepped away to take a short walk.  
  
“Sorry Knockout. Took a walk and lost track of the chronometer. What’s the matter?”  
  
From the sound of his voice and the curl of frustration over their bond, Breakdown also knew that the racer had called for a reason besides looking for him. There was a pause on the link, and he knew his bonded had sighed.  
  
“Do you remember where I put our polishes? I’ve been looking since you left, but they’re not in the cabinets with Streetwise, and they’re not in the apartment either.”  
  
The drummer recalled a few memory files before he turned around and started heading back down the street.  
  
“I remember seeing you use them before we went to recharge last cycle. Did you check by the stand next to the berth?”  
  
“I did! But they’re not there!”  
  
Knockout whined. He raised a brow plate.  
  
“Not on the stand, _by_ the stand. As in, the wall space next to where you put your buffer?”  
  
The link went silent again, as Knockout was surely walking back into the berth room from where he’d been pacing in the living space. Suddenly, he made a sound of triumph.  
  
“Ah, here they are! Thank you Breaky.”  
  
One side of his lip plate curled up at his bonded’s endearment.  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
“Now, are you going to come back? Your morning ration’s going to be cold if you don’t hurry your aft up.”  
  
The grin grew, and he shook his helm subconsciously at the tendrils reaching across their bond to his spark. He grabbed hold and walked past where the last of their instruments were being loaded into Streetwise.  
  
“I’m coming. See you in a klik.”

 ***

Their apartment was small and barren, lacking the personal items that were always packed on the tour bus. It wasn’t in the best condition either. The flooring was peeling in the corners, needing to be redone. The electric needed to be rewired in the berth room. The glass windows that let light into their kitchen space couldn’t even be opened unless Breakdown wrenched them with all his strength. But, Knockout’s racing posters still hung on the walls, it barely cost them anything to keep on an ano cycle’s basis, and they didn’t have the spark to sell it. This had been their first apartment when they moved in together.  
  
Breakdown tips back the last of the energon in his cube, listening to his bonded’s daily rant about Starscream. That’s one thing that’s never changed either, not since they joined the band. Before that, Knockout would usually rant about a racer that tried to scratch his paint. He’s learned that he can tune it out just enough to look like he’s listening but can be thinking about something else entirely…

_30 ano cycles ago_  
  
“Hey look! It’s the racers from the wastelands!”  
  
The blue bruiser raises an optical brow at the bot that had worked on the beam with him until three groons after dark. He’s really getting tired of the way he shoves him to get his attention and has got half a processor to knock him over the helm with his hammer.  
  
But as he looks in the direction he’s pointing to, six racers fly down the street past them and drift on the dusty street to a standstill. Each of them transforms with the grace of a cybercat, and both bots watch as they laugh and chat like gossiping femmes.  
  
“Looks like they’re going in to Darkmount Bar.”  
  
The racers slowly wander towards the building lit by a blinking neon purple sign that wasn’t supposed to blink. The unhurried way they meander together is a stark contrast to the way he’d seen them driving before. But Breakdown’s more worried about dragging himself home, chugging down three cubes of energon, and recharging for the next stellar cycle.  
  
Apparently, that wasn’t what fate had in mind for him as his companion glances at him with a smirk.  
  
“What do you say we go give them a taste of Kaonian mecha?”  
  
The bot puffs out his chest and eyes the racers feverishly. Breakdown stares at the bot before his expression becomes unamused.  
  
“I’d rather just go home.”  
  
His response makes the bot whine at him.  
  
“Aw come on! We’re off from the jobsite for the next cycle, let’s celebrate!”  
  
He huffs, about to turn him down and walk away before a flash of bright red catches the corner of his optic. He looks back towards the street and recognizes the red alt mode that has yet to transform. It’s the racer he’d seen from on top of the building, now transforming into a bot with such sleek armor and shining paint that his spark skips a pulse. From where he stands, he can see the mech’s white faceplates surrounding crimson optics, and a spark breaking smile. Cybertron seems to have stopped spinning, and his knee joints suddenly feel weak.  
  
In a moment’s notice, he doesn’t feel so tired anymore.  
  
“Alright, I’m in.”

_Present Cycle_  
  
“—and honestly, I don’t know why Starscream puts up all the fuss to take all of his guitars with us anymore! He only ever uses three of them and tries to scratch my paint if I ever touch them. They could easily be stored at the shop he got them from, and the shopkeeper’s got enough defenses on that place to make it a warzone—”  
  
“Hey Knockout, I think we should go out tonight.”  
  
Not really used to being cut off when he’s on a rant, Knockout pauses and recycles his optics. He turns to look at his bonded, ready to cut back in with a ‘you’re kidding me, right?’ and continue, but the bright glow of Breakdown’s optics and charm to his hopeful grin has the guitarist smiling before he can react otherwise.  
  
“What brought this on, babe?”  
  
He chuckles, tilting his helm to the side in a silent question. His bonded rises from where he sat on the other side of the table and collects both of their empty cubes. He shrugs.  
  
“Not really sure. I was just thinking, tomorrow’s our next world tour, and we’re not gonna get much time to ourselves for a while. So maybe we could, I don’t know, take a drive through the wastelands? Get a cube at Darkmount?”  
  
His bonded’s request is distant, like something out of a memory, and Knockout feels his spark pang in its casing. When was the last time they took a drive in the wastelands anyway? Or visited to local bar? The last time he could remember was… After they had bonded.  
  
Now _that_ was a long time.  
  
“We really haven’t had much time to ourselves lately, have we?”  
  
He purrs, and Breakdown pauses at the sink where he’s washing out their cubes. The drummer peers over his shoulder, and Knockout’s smile grows when he sees the golden optic focused on him. He’s never had a name for the warm feeling that drips from his spark at times like this. It’s not quite love, and it’s not quite lust. More like something in between. Something uniquely for Breakdown from him that took ano cycles to develop.  
  
It takes his bonded all of three nanoseconds to leave the cubes in the sink and come up behind him. When the guitarist feels the warmth of his bonded, he slides around the side of his chair as Breakdown kneels, something he’s always done to accommodate their height difference. His white servos curl around orange cheek plates.  
  
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Breaky. Let’s go out tonight.”  
  
Knockout purrs once more as the blue bruiser’s servos wrap around his sides and he’s pulled into a kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

_30 ano cycles ago_  
  
The bar is bustling with bots.  
  
Most of them are dusty locals just getting off work like Breakdown, worn down from the day but glad to spend their extra credits on some high grade. There’s what looks like the occasional hitchhiker from Tarn or the Sea of Rust, hunched over their cube and wondering how the slag they ended up in Kaon of all places. But then there’s the racers, all standing by the front counter with high grade hopped up on sweeteners. All optics in the bar are on them, their vibrant paint jobs untouched by the rust outside. And they seemingly don’t care about all the attention they’re attracting.  
  
When Breakdown and his companion walk in, they go unnoticed, which is usually a good sign in Breakdown’s point of view. You don’t want to start a fight in a bar in Kaon. But he’s forgotten about that as the door shuts behind him. Instead, his processor is focused on one task: to find the red racer.  
  
“Alright, come on! There’s a couple of open seats on the other side of the counter.”  
  
His companion says and drags him forward into the crowd. The blue bruiser’s glad the bot ended up grabbing onto his wrist, otherwise he would’ve lost him within a couple of nanoseconds. His optics scan the bar counter, taking in each racer and dismissing them just as quickly as he realizes that none of them are who he’s looking for. None of them even have an accent of red on their bodies.  
  
_Scrap_.  
  
But that doesn’t make sense! He clearly saw the racer, his tired processor _couldn’t_ have made up such an elaborate hallucination, even if he was exhausted from his long shift. He clearly saw the racer follow the others into Darkmount Bar! He had to be here—  
  
_There_.  
  
His spark pulsed, leading him to look in the direction of the end of the bar counter. And there, right on the corner, sat the red racer. Breakdown knew his jaw had fallen the moment his optics found the shining vermillion red. He was a good helm and shoulders shorter than himself, but what he lacked in height he made up for in beautiful curves. The dim glow of light from the ceiling shimmered off the headlights on his chest plates and the crest on his helm. In short, he was stunning.  
  
His companion’s voice seemed to fade as he slowed to a crawl, taking in every detail of the mech that sipped at a cube of pink energon and conversed with a slender blue racer. Until just then, the blue bot whispered something into the red racer’s pointed audial, and his crimson optics turned on him. When red met gold, Breakdown’s spark jumped, and he knew he was done for. The cherry red racer had him.  
  
“Oof!”  
  
He grunted as he ran face first into mineral-coated backplates, a normal grime for a miner. Breakdown failed to notice that he’d lost his companion in the crowd and walked right into the back plates of a titan twice the size of himself.  
  
The titan jerked forward, losing his grip on the cube he’d been drinking out of and spilling its contents onto his front. Mecha around the room gasped, and Breakdown felt his energon run cold when the titan whipped around to glare at him.  
  
“… You got a problem with me, twerp?”  
  
The titan rumbled like an oncoming acid storm, and the bar fell silent around him. Even the racers ceased laughing and turned to watch what would soon be a death match. Breakdown would’ve punched himself if he didn’t know they were already coming. He’d get beaten into a scrap heap, and right in front of the red racer too.  
  
_What an intelligent bot he’d turned out to be._  
  
“Hey, hey! He’s got no problems here! He was just leaving, right?”  
  
Both Breakdown and the titan blinked when his companion suddenly came to his rescue, standing between the two of them with an all too cheery smile. The titan rumbled louder.  
  
“This doesn’t concern you, constructibot.”  
  
“Actually, he’s my friend. So yes, this does concern me.”  
  
Breakdown felt the nerves prickle up his spinal strut when the titan leaned down to growl at them, his fists clenching.  
  
“You’re gonna get yourself scrapped!”  
  
He whispered so loud it was almost a shout. The bot glanced back at him.  
  
“No. _You’re_ gonna get yourself scrapped if you don’t put pedal to the metal and get out of here!”  
  
The bot then faced the titan with a smirk.  
  
“How about you and me, junkyard? I’m up for a fight.”  
  
Breakdown was helpless to react as his companion leapt at the titan, both of them crashing to the floor. Before anyone knew it, fists were flying, and a chain reaction was setting off more bots to tackle and throw each other around the room. He would’ve moved, but his peds were frozen in place and instincts were powerless against them.  
  
“Come on!”  
  
A servo suddenly grabbed him by the wrist again, and he was in motion. Everything whipped past in blurred color as his aching peds were forced to run faster than he’d ever thought they could. In a matter of nanoseconds, he was out the door, following a flash of red.  
  
“Pedal to the metal big guy!”  
  
The red racer leapt into alt form, and he followed in an ungraceful stumble to land and spin rust under his tires.  
  
A few kliks passed as they sped out of town onto a winding road. Breakdown’s processor came back to reality when he realized he probably owed the bot his life and now he was following the red racer.  
  
“W-Where are we going?”  
  
He asked shakily. The racer’s brake lights flashed as he suddenly swerved over a lane and slowed to roll next to the blue bruiser.  
  
“Out for a little drive. The bar was getting a bit rowdy for my taste.”  
  
He purred, as if dragging a complete stranger out of what would’ve been his deactivation sentence and into the middle of nowhere was the most normal thing in the world!  
  
Then, as if the racer had heard his thought process, he sighed and flashed his headlights at him.  
  
“You didn’t have to go and challenge a titan, big guy. If you wanted to meet me, all you had to do was come over and say hello.”  
  
If he’d been in root mode, Breakdown would’ve recycled his optics. Embarrassment flooded his energon lines and he chuckled nervously. Mentally he was slapping himself upside the helm.  
  
“Eh… Yeah, I guess that would’ve been easier.”  
  
The red racer laughed, and it was the smoothest sound he’d heard in a long time. Like music.  
  
“Well then, since you’re so good at introductions, I suppose I should return the favor. I’m Knockout.”  
  
Breakdown felt a warm field brush up against his, and his spark pulsed. If this is the way he was always going to feel around Knockout, then courting him would be both the easiest and the hardest task of his life cycle.  
  
“I-I’m Breakdown.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Present Cycle_  
  
The base thrum of an electric guitar greeted the pair as they walked through the door into Darkmount Bar.  
  
_“Here’s Next Contestant by Throttles on the Freeway. I’m Banger, and you’re listening to Metal…”_  
  
_“I judge by the paint he’s wearing,_  
 _just how many helms I’m tearing off_  
 _of fraggers coming onto him!_  
 _Each night seems like it’s getting worse!”_  
  
“Hey Breakdown! Knockout! How’s it going?”  
  
“Hey Blitzwing!”  
  
The blue bruiser waved to the bartender as he and his bonded wandered in. Knockout’s lip plates curled into a grin as he looked around. They hadn’t been to Darkmount in so long. This outing was definitely overdue.  
  
“Babe, over here.”  
  
Breakdown turned as his racer took his servo and tugged him to the corner booth. He raised a brow plate with a chuckle but didn’t question it as Knockout slid into the booth and he sat on the edge.  
  
“You trying to make a statement, Knocky?”  
  
Knockout feigned an innocent grin at his bonded.  
  
“Blitzwing talks too much. I want you all to myself.”  
  
Something a little warmer than a pulse danced in between their sparks, and they reveled in it. The blue bruiser’s expression softened, and he rumbled, sliding his servo under the table to grasp Knockout’s thigh and glide over it. It made Knockout croon with a sigh, enjoying the sensation before grasping the wandering servo with his own.  
  
“… After the cube of high grade, you promised.”  
  
The firm grasp proved the point, but Breakdown huffed anyway. Knockout and rock and roll had given him a sense of confidence that hadn’t existed when he was a younger bot. His bonded could also get him in the mood anywhere and anytime, and if he’d been any farther into it, nothing would’ve stopped him from taking the racer right here and now. But instead, he lifted the servo grasping his to press a chaste kiss against it and let his engine cool.  
  
“Three extra sweeteners?”  
  
Knockout knew that his bonded had lowered his voice to base volume on purpose, and the sound of it went straight to his interface components.  
  
_Oh, we’re going at it hard tonight._  
  
“Please? And don’t forget one for yourself while you’re at it.”  
  
His bonded snorted and hefted himself out of the booth, leaving Knockout with a knot of warmth in the pit of his tank that would need to be attended to later. He smiled after his bonded, crossing one thigh strut over the other as he glanced over at Darkmount’s bar counter. Memory files of a certain blue bot walking past him and his friends into the back of a titan resurfaced, and his spark pulsed. He loved that blue bruiser more than anyone would ever know, and he loved him evermore as the cycles passed. Knockout had gotten the chance to watch his partner grow into the strong, caring, and confident bot that he’d become. Sometimes he couldn’t help but feel proud.  
  
_You’re starting to sound old and sentimental._  
  
Shaking his helm to rid himself of his softer emotions, he listened to Throttles on the Freeway vibrating through the air.  
  
_“They think they'll get inside him,_  
 _with every drink they buy him._  
 _As they all try coming on to him…_  
 _This time somebody's getting hurt._  
 _Here comes the next contestant!”_  
  
He offlined his optics and hummed with it, enjoying the way the instruments of the song struck out like a blade with the force of the lyrics. He’d have to try that for the next album they wrote.  
  
The low whistle jolted him from the moment.  
  
“Well, hello there. Is your armor custom painted to match your optics? Because they are both the most beautiful shade of red I’ve seen, and in this light, you seem to shimmer.”  
  
Knockout recycled his optics, looking up to ask Breakdown where the slag he’d heard that pitiful pick up line. What he saw instead was a bright green Tarnian with blue optics, leaning against the table and smirking at him like he could beat Megatron himself in a fight. Knockout stared at him blankly.  
  
_Should’ve known. Breakdown never liked flirting that way either._  
  
He raised an optical brow at the bot.  
  
“That was the worst pick up line I’ve heard in centuries.”  
  
He sneered, hoping that would drive the other away. It only seemed to edge the Tarnian on.  
  
“No? Alright I got another one: I think I’m gonna need some coolant, ‘cause you got my engine overheating.”  
  
The mech leaned his elbow against the table and flashed him a smoldering smile. Knockout could’ve shuddered at the atrocity that this bot was making of himself.  
  
“That was even more pitiful. Can you leave me alone?”  
  
His green paint job shimmered in the dim lighting, almost polished enough to outdo his own. The thought was repulsing. _No one_ outdid Knockout’s paint job. His field whipped out in warning, but the Tarnian ignored it again.  
  
“Aw come on! Wait, I got one more!”  
  
The green mech slid into the booth with him, and the red racer scooted another arm’s length away. He cleared his intake dramatically.  
  
“Excuse me, beautiful, but I’m lost. Can you tell me which road leads to your spark?”  
  
Twisting himself to lean his backplates and helm against the table, he slid under Knockout’s bewildered faceplate and batted his optics at the red racer. Knockout hoped his bonded felt every bit of disgust that was currently swirling around his spark.  
  
“Definitely not the road you’re on. Take the nearest exit and get away from me.”  
  
The Tarnian snapped his digits with a frown before grabbing Knockout’s shoulder to right himself as he sat on the table in front of him.  
  
“Solid burn, babe. You’re hard to impress.”  
  
Knockout’s servos curled into claws as he swiped at the arm on his shoulder and snarled.  
  
“ _Watch the paint!!_ And don’t call me that!”  
  
The Tarnian whined.  
  
“Aw, but why not?? I just wanna get to know you better.”  
  
The sudden growl from the other side of the table made his plating go stiff.  
  
“Because I’m gonna punch your slagging face in.”  
  
Blue optics went comically wide with fear. Knockout watched with a small smirk as he went oddly silent as he turned around, the only sound now being the song on the radio.  
  
_“Is that your servo on my bonded?_  
 _Is that your servo?!_  
 _I wish you'd do it again!_  
 _I'll watch you leave here limping._  
 _And I wish you'd do it again!_  
 _And I'll watch you leave here limping._  
 _There goes the next contestant!”_  
  
“Holy slagging Primus!!”  
  
Immediately, the Tarnian scrambled off the table and to his peds, all but dwarfed by the blue bruiser glaring down at him. Breakdown didn’t need to flare his plating to look intimidating when he was pissed off. But when he did, like now, it was funny for Knockout to watch other bots shrink.  
  
“You want to get to know me better? Meet my bonded, Breakdown.”  
  
Knockout watched shock and fear collide into the expression on the Tarnian’s faceplate.  
  
“Your b—”  
  
He stammered as his gaze shifted from the red racer to the blue bruiser in rapid succession. After about three shifts, Breakdown’s patience wore thin and he growled again. Realization kicked into the Tarnian’s processor that it was time to go.  
  
“Alright I’m leaving! I’m leaving!”  
  
Throwing his servos up in surrender, he scrambled backwards from the corner booth. Breakdown watched the bot’s every movement as he threw himself out the door and left Darkmount.  
  
Huffing in aggravation, the blue bruiser’s optics shifted back to his bonded whom was brushing off his shoulders.  
  
“You alright, Knockout?”  
  
Said bot swiped at what he thought was grime on his shoulder. Rubbing it between his digits with a grimace, he wiped it one the table and nodded.  
  
“His puns were worse than his fragged-up personality.”  
  
Turning around to the table he’d set their cubes on, Breakdown gathered them back in his servos and placed on in front of Knockout and the other beside it. He slid back into the booth, and his bonded took the opportunity to scoot closer, partially leaning against him. In return, Breakdown opened his arm and let Knockout move into the crook by his chest plates. When his arm was slung over the red racer’s other shoulder, the bonded couple turned to look at each other. Then, after a long moment of silent expressions, the couple burst out into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song on the radio in this chapter quoted (with edits for the story's purpose) Next Contestant by Nickelback


	5. Chapter 5

_30 ano cycles ago_  
  
The racers Breakdown had seen were never originally from Kaon. It turned out that they were from Helex and had come to Kaon looking for new roads to practice their skills. They’d never meant to linger long. There was nothing truly here in Kaon for them to have a reason to stay.  
  
There was no reason for Knockout to have stayed for as long as he did.  
  
Now, eight stellar cycles after meeting the red racer, Breakdown watched him gaze after his friends as they transformed into their alt modes, racing off towards the interstate that would lead them to the city-states on the northern hemisphere of Cybertron.  
  
“So, you’re leaving?”  
  
Knockout’s shining faceplates whipped back around to stare at him. Breakdown knew he’d never find another mech as beautiful as he was, even as coolant tears dripped down his faceplates. There would never be another bot like him. Knockout was the one he would’ve asked to bond. He’d always been the one.  
  
“You’d better hurry. They’ll leave you behind if you don’t put pedal to the metal.”  
  
The blue bruiser tried to smile, but it came out half-sparked. His spark felt like it was flickering. He wished Knockout would just get on with it and leave, cut him off before he pathetically begged him to stay.  
  
Shoulders shaking and claws curling, Knockout’s optics darted to the ground as he invented shakily. Then, after an insufferable moment of silence, his magnetic field exploded into a storm of emotions. His helm whipped back up to glare at Breakdown with such harsh anger and misery that the blue bruiser stumbled back a step in shock.  
  
“No… I will NOT leave!! I REFUSE to leave!!”  
  
Breakdown had never seen him speak with such determination.  
  
“Knockout… There’s nothing for you here in Kaon.”  
  
He spoke softly, trying to reason with the fact he knew that Knockout knew was inevitable.  
  
“You belong in Helex, with your friends—”  
  
“Frag Helex. Frag them. Frag it all if I can’t belong here with you.”  
  
The blue bruiser’s voice caught in his intake, and he stared at the red racer. Knockout sucked in another shaky vent.  
  
“I’ll race in the wastelands. I’ll find a shop in Kaon and work tuning up paint jobs. If I can’t find a shop, I’ll work the bar counter in Darkmount. _Primus slaggit_ I will even pick up a saw and work construction jobs by the groon… My paint job’s gonna be ruined by these wretched rust winds. I’m gonna miss my friends, and the smooth racetracks of Helex…”  
  
Knockout’s optics met the blue bruiser’s. Raging red collided with thunderstruck gold.  
  
“But don’t you _dare_ say there’s nothing for me here. _You’re here_. That’s good enough for me.”  
  
Coolant welled from golden optics and fell onto his orange faceplates.  
  
The two bots only stood still for a moment longer before Breakdown’s fragile composure broke, and he barreled into the red racer. Sweeping him into his arm struts, Knockout clung to him and sobbed into their spark-searing kiss. Their fields swarmed each other and tangled, their sparks soared in joy. Breakdown’s arms tightened around Knockout as he swore to Primus that he would never let this bot go, not in the next hundred ano cycles. Knockout whined when their kiss ended but sighed when his partner littered his dusty faceplate in loving kisses and nibbles.  
  
“I guess… this means… I’m gonna… have to find… a bigger apartment… for the two of us.”  
  
He vented in between kisses. The red racer smiled, pressing their forehelms together.  
  
“I’ll take whatever we can get, big guy.”  
  
His spark pulsed, and Breakdown knew he was done for.  
  
Knockout was the one.


	6. Chapter 6

_Present Cycle_  
  
They laughed about the Tarnian until they stumbled back into their apartment, venting heavily to recycle air into the overheated frames. Breakdown punched the door closed, and the lock clicked behind them. Neither of them bothered to flick on the lights. Instead, Knockout’s headlights flickered on, and he led the way into their berth room.  
Their berth was as barren as their apartment, excluding the lone thermal blanket that lay half crumpled over its surface. Knockout was usually the one to make the berth. But this cycle he’d forgotten in the chaos of packing for the band’s second world tour.  
  
They would leave tomorrow.  
  
This night cycle would be their last one alone for some time to come.  
  
Knockout paused when he felt a bulky digit brush against his audial. He turned around, looking up into the glowing yellow optics of his bonded. One servo wrapped around the small of his back plates, the other cupped his cheek. His headlights flickered off.  
  
“Still a stunning spark-breaker, aren’t you Knocky?”  
  
He didn’t need to see it to hear the endearing smile on his bonded’s face. Knockout chuckled, looking up at him with a lop-sided smirk.  
  
“And you’re still challenging bots for me. Are you ever going to learn to not make things complicated?”  
  
Breakdown shrugged, drawing his bonded’s frame closer.  
  
“Eh, it would’ve been easier just to punch the guy. But the last time I started a fight in Darkmount, it didn't suit your taste.”  
  
Knockout laughed, and Breakdown still felt that it was the most beautiful sound that he’d ever heard. Besides when he sang. They fell into silence, content to do nothing else but hold onto each other in the one berthroom apartment they called home.  
  
Static suddenly rang out into the air, making them both jolt in surprise and whip around to the radio on the stand by the berth. Breakdown grumbled at the moment lost as he let his bonded go and approached it.  
  
“Slagging radio’s still trying to find a signal.”  
  
He slammed his fist on it, hoping to silence it for good. Instead, the radio emitted more fuzzy static and whirred for another few nanoseconds. Then, it settled, and the sound of a piano melody leapt out of its speakers. Both bots recycled their optics. Breakout glanced back at his bonded, but all Knockout gave back was a tilt of the helm and a shrug.  
  
_“I know it's late, but something's on my mind._  
_It couldn't wait, there's never any time._  
_'Cause life slips by without a warning,_  
_and I'm tired of ignoring_  
_all the space that's between you and I.”_  
  
Knockout recycled his optics again at the familiar Kaoni rasp of each word, caught off guard by the song that he now knew was playing.  
  
“That’s Satellite, from the album we wrote last ano cycle… Is this Metal?”  
  
Breakdown stood up straight as Knockout walked up beside him to stare at the radio. This time it was the blue bruiser’s turn to shrug in response.  
  
“I guess so.”  
  
They fell into silence and listened to the radio recite the song like a gentle hum.  
  
_“Let's lock the door behind us…_  
_They won't find us…_  
_Make the whole world wait,”_  
  
Knockout huffed in amusement, smiling absently. His bonded sent curiosity over their bond.  
  
“I forgot how much I liked this song… It’s about time Megatron wrote a song about us.”  
  
_“… while we dance around this berthroom,_  
_like we've only got tonight._  
_Not about to let you_  
_go until the morning light._  
_You can be my whole world, if I can be your satellite._  
_Let's dance around this berthroom,_  
_Like tonight's our only night.”_  
  
Breakdown watched his bonded with a fond grin, then frowned to himself. He knew it was a stupid impulse of an idea on a whim. A terrible idea probably. Knockout might actually laugh at him for it.  
  
But that didn’t stop him from reaching his servo out to the red racer beside him.  
  
“Knockout… You wanna…?”  
  
The red racer turned his gaze to the servo hovering in front of him, then up to Breakdown’s faceplates. There was a slight shake to his voice that he hadn’t heard in a very long time. Not since before they bonded. That blue bot who’d looked upon him as if he were the only thing that mattered in the world, and almost paid for it with his life cycle that night. Knockout’s smile was small but spark-felt as he reached out to grasp the outstretched servo.  
  
_“Let's dance around this room.”_  
_“I'll be your satellite.”_  
_“Dance around this room.”_  
_“I'll be your satellite.”_  
  
Knockout remembered the first time they danced, it was the cycle they bonded. Neither of them knew very well what they were doing and figured out pretty quickly that any steps involved would end in them both falling on their afts. Thankfully, there were only a handful of bots present to watch, including the bot whom had nearly lost his life to let Breakdown escape the bar fight. He’d invited none of his friends from Helex. They’d become distant figures in his past. And if he had invited them, all they would’ve done was gossip about how long their bond would last and beg the red racer to join them back on the track.  
  
None of them would’ve ever understood how much that moment with Breakdown meant to him.  
  
_“Do you recall how long it must have been_  
_since any room held only you and me?_  
_And every song that sings about it,_  
_says that we can't live without it._  
_Now I know just what that really means.”_  
  
Somehow that night cycle, Breakdown had led them into a slow but steady sway, and that’s how they danced the night cycle away. Now, the blue bruiser led nervously, but with certainty. As they swayed, their steps guided them into a slow revolving circle. They danced because nobody was watching. This moment belonged to them alone. No one could take that away.  
  
_“Let's lock the door behind us…_  
_They won't find us…_  
_Make the whole world wait.”_  
  
Knockout leaned his helm against his bonded’s chest plates, closing his optics. In the back of his processor, he knew these soft sparked emotions were going to make him lose his edge. But to the Pit with it. Let him become a sentimental fool if it meant these moments would last just that much longer.  
  
_“… while we dance around this berthroom,_  
_like we've only got tonight._  
_Not about to let you_  
_go until the morning light._  
_You can be my whole world, if I can be your satellite._  
_Let's dance around this berthroom,_  
_Like tonight's our only night.”_  
  
_“Dance with me around the moon.”_  
_“You and I, every night.”_  
_“Dance around this room._  
_“I'll be your satellite.”_  
  
Breakdown glanced down as he felt his bonded’s helm nuzzle against his chassis. He smiled, stroking up and down the others back plating.  
  
_“I can't believe,_  
_the cycles turn into centuries._  
_I hate to see_  
_the moments disappear.”_  
  
From the top of that long-rusted building, he remembered when his optics had fallen on a red alt mode that drifted through his turns. On a small, bustling street that was overblown by rust and colored by the passing cycles, he remembered the first time he watched that red alt mode transform into a mech his spark couldn’t have lived without. Within a run-down, local bar that had so many dents in its walls from fights that one couldn’t imagine the place without it, he remembered the flash of red that had grabbed his servo for the first time and had put his life in the fast lane. Along the side of the interstate, one of the only parts of Kaon that remained good as new, he remembered when a red racer had decided that he was enough of a reason to leave the track, and his life cycle had changed forever.  
  
_“But tonight, the sand is stopping._  
_Take the hourglass and drop it._  
_So we can stay_  
_inside this atmosphere.”_  
  
Whatever he had done to deserve this cherry red mech who was as beautiful inside as he was out, Breakdown wouldn’t ever know. Through every cycle they just barely scraped by on a few credits, to the moment they struck fame and fortune with the Decepticon band—Knockout had never left his side. He promised he never would. Maybe the others didn’t see it, the stunning star that was his bonded. But they didn’t know him like he did. No one would know Knockout like Breakdown would. That’s what the passage of time had given them; the chance to become one.  
  
_“Dance with me around the moon.”_  
_“You and I, every night.”_  
_“Dance around this room.”_  
_“I'll be your satellite.”_  
  
Eons would pass like the wind that carried rust. It would make them old, brittle, and insufferable. And one cycle, another long time from now, they would pass into the Well together and leave their metal frames behind. But until then, Knockout and Breakdown were content to dance.

_“Let's dance around this berthroom.”_  
_“I'll be your satellite.”_  
_“Let's dance around this berthroom.”_  
_“I'll be your satellite.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter quoted (with edits for the story's purpose) Satellite by Nickelback.


	7. Chapter 7

Dawn was still about a groon away from emerging over the horizon when Streetwise started his engine, and Prowl pinged each Decepticon band member back to the land of the living for departure.  
  
Starscream was the first to climb onto Streetwise that morning cycle, wings droopy with exhaustion as he ambled towards the back of the bus, curling into one of the lower bunks with a thick blanket wrapped around himself like a cocoon. If anyone disturbed him within the next four groons he would recharge, they would be rewarded with a pit-spawned seeker who would happily throw them into a trash compactor.  
  
Soundwave was next, digits stroking over the back of his minicon as he silently boarded and took to his regular seat at the table by the window. Laserbeak chirred quietly, and Soundwave let the minicon latch onto his chest plates to recharge too. He turned his faceless screen to gaze out at the darkness on the other side of the window. At the request of Prowl, he also pinged a certain mech more than once to be sure he was awake.  
  
At Prowl’s surprise, it was Megatron who boarded only a few kliks after Soundwave. Granted, he did not receive even a glance of acknowledgement, and even Soundwave was given a glare that promised deactivation. But the Decepticon’s lead singer was on the bus, collapsing onto the couch and offlining his optics the moment his helm hit its soft siding. Prowl sent a silent prayer of thanks to Primus and knew he would have to call a certain Prime later. Optimus, after all, would be proud.  
  
That left two bots left to board. Prowl had to ping them both another three times before they finally acknowledged him with a response and stepped on.  
  
Knockout flashed him a tired glare, and Breakdown gave a half-sparked grin. The bonded couple dragged themselves to the other couch. Megatron onlined an optic with a growl when he was disturbed by the commotion, but his sneer dissipated as he watched his drummer and guitarist from the other side of the bus. Breakdown laid down first, propping his helm up on the arm of the couch, and then held out his servos to Knockout. The guitarist immediately crawled up against him, laying on top of him and propping his helm against the drummer’s bulky chest plates. Breakdown removed a wrinkled thermal blanket from his subspace and draped it over the both of them, rubbing his servo over the other’s back plates in slow strokes. Knockout smiled and purred as they both fell into recharge.

 ***

Megatron watched the bonded couple, feeling the end of his lip plates twitch upward. Optimus loved to lay on his chest plates too. His spark pulsed, and as he fell back into the darkness of recharge, he thought of the Prime who recharged on the other side of Cybertron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. I hope you enjoyed.  
> More to come!


End file.
